


The Garden

by discopigs



Series: Primrose Goode [1]
Category: American Horror Story
Genre: American Horror Story: Apocalypse - Freeform, Apocalypse, F/M, Non-Linear Narrative, heavy with mythological references and symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-08-14 05:46:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 18,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16486985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/discopigs/pseuds/discopigs
Summary: “I'd give everything if you would grant my love a pardon, and all the fruits again would fill the garden.”Primrose Goode had spent her entire life bathed in the light before she met Michael Langdon. She thinks she has lost him forever until he reappears one day out of the depths of the nuclear winter. War is raging between two sides, and her hesitation to pick one is not the only obstacle for these seemingly star crossed lovers.The apocalypse couldn’t keep them apart, but her mother might...





	1. prelude of light; genesis

**Author's Note:**

> Primrose Goode, daughter of the Supreme, spent her entire life bathed in the light before the world came to its fiery end; now she finds herself submerged into the dark underworld of Outpost 3. She wonders what will become of her with no one to guide her through this strange new world, that is until the unexpected arrival of a nefarious figure from her past...

_"Find our sisters."_

**Three lifeless bodies on a cold stone floor.**

_"We couldn't find them all, dear."_

_"I know she's here, I can sense her presence. She's distant, but she's here."_

**A rumbling cough emanates out through the room, drawing attention to the dark figure poised at the top of the stairs.**

_"May I help you?"_

_"Where is she?"_

**A deep chuckle echoes ominously.**

_"Where she belongs. With me."_


	2. chapter one; eighteen months

It had been 18 months since the apocalypse.

Or rather, 71 weeks since the apocalypse.

547 days.

13,150 hours.

789,000 minutes.

47,340,000 seconds.

In other words, an extremely long time to go without seeing the sun, or feeling the wind in your hair.

An extremely long time to go without seeing your mother.

Primrose missed her mother terribly. She missed watching her mother teach a class, she missed helping her with the herbs in the greenhouse. She missed the perfume she always wore, and the warmth of her hugs. Down here, beneath the soil, hidden underground, she always felt so cold. She wasn't sure what had happened to her mother, or her sisters in the coven, and the grief ate away at her constantly. She felt the loss of her friends and family every day, and couldn't help but feel completely helpless on her own without them.

Nevertheless, Primrose was lucky, one of the fortunate few. She hadn't been left to perish in the nuclear winter like so many millions had. She had been plucked from her home and taken to outpost 3, on account of her 'special DNA'. She hadn't quite decided what she thought that might mean.

She was alive, she was (mostly) fed, she was, for the time being, relatively safe. She was a purple to boot. Being a purple was the closest thing to having privilege in this strange new world where people dressed like Victorians and ate cubes for dinner.

Days in the bunker pass by and people rarely notice. Each day is interchangeable with the next. Until one morning something finally happens, something that sets this particular day apart from the rest. There is a breach.

-

Prim is sat with the other purples in the drawing room when he first appears. He makes his way through the room, his composure straight and refined, each step seemingly intoxicating each person he passes by. He practically exudes control, power, and desire. It isn't until he reaches the center of the room that it dawns on her; she's seen this face before. The boy her mother had warned her about. Her breath catches in her throat when their eyes meet, she grips the arm of her chair as past feelings coming rush back. Being the first familiar face she's seen in 18 months, she hopes for some sort of reaction from him, an acknowledgment of her and their shared history, but she receives none. If he's at all affected by her presence, it does not show. She feels something deflate inside of her. Something akin to the last flickering flame of hope within her being abruptly snuffed out.

He has everyone's complete attention as he explains the situation and his reason for being there. He's still as captivating as she remembers but there is something dangerous beneath his words, something dark in his voice.

She takes in his appearance and notes every change. His hair is darker and longer, and falls gracefully down past his shoulders. He had always been presentable, but now in his velvet dinner jacket and blood red cravat, he was dazzlingly elegant. His once playfully smug demeanor now seemed like a false promise; he was smiling as he spoke, but it wasn't what it seemed. The smile did not quite reach his eyes.

It seemed to her that amid all the change, the only reassurance she had that it was actually him was his eyes. Still so piercingly blue, so mysterious. So full of secrets, it would seem.

As she pondered these changes, he gave the parting words of his speech; _"I look forward to meeting each and every one of you."_

-

She had waited patiently for this moment and it had finally arrived. Her interview.

In the days after his initial appearance, Primrose had hoped to catch him in the corridors, or speak with him at dinner, but he never resurfaced. She had planned to confront him, maybe he knew if her mother was alive, or why she was brought here, but it was a fruitless endeavor. It seemed the only form of contact she would have with him would be in her interview. She thought perhaps she might go first, or at least second. As it turns out, she was not even third on his list. She was one of the last people to be interviewed.

She had tried to talk to the others about their interviews to try and gauge the general feeling towards him. Most people were greatly intimidated, enthralled, sometimes aroused and a lot of the time humiliated. Timothy had told her he had a penchant to see the dark places in people. If she had dark places, she might've felt nervous. Until the apocalypse, her life had mostly been spent bathed in the light. It was only when she was taken and plunged into the depths of the cold underground did she come face to face with true darkness.

She did feel nervous now, however, sitting across from him at his desk, his feet perched upon the surface as he leaned back in his chair. He spent a long time drinking her in, the corners of his mouth turning upward occasionally, but his face otherwise unreadable.

She had her hands in her lap, eyes cast toward the floor. The few times she had the courage to meet his gaze it had burnt through her, singeing her very soul. She felt anxious, but tried to mask it as best as she could.

After what seemed like an eternity, he spoke.

"Primrose Goode." He smirked.

"Mr. Langdon." She replied, cooly.

He threw back his head and gave a cold, sardonic laugh. "Away with such formalities, Prim. One would think we hardly know each other."

"I'm talking to a man who holds my life in his very hands, I'm unsure of the correct form of address." She responded, defensively. "Plus, it's been so long since we last met, it's hard to know where we stand." She added, quietly. 

"Well, I hardly think 'Mr. Langdon' is appropriate, anyhow. Given our history." He smiled, knowingly.

A moment's silence passed before he got up suddenly, and walked around to her side of the desk to sit upon its edge.

"Call me Michael," he said softly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, the contrast of his cold fingers against her now burning skin making her shiver. "The way you used to do."

"Michael..." she began, "Perhaps we could proceed with the interview?"

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, wary of the man her mother had tried to shield her from. Yet this man was not the boy she remembered; Should that concern her?

"Are you a virgin?"

She froze in her place, his hand still cupping the side of her head, gently encouraging her to turn to look at him, but she resisted.

"I beg your pardon?" She asked, incredulously.

"You wanted to start the interview, it's standard procedure that I am aware of all outpost occupants sexual history."

His hand fell from her face, his rings brushing against her flesh as his fingers trailed down her trembling body before returning to his side.

"You're just teasing me, it's what you do with all the survivors. You break us down and humiliate us, for whatever reason." She scoffed.

"I need to know your sexual history and preferences so I can determine whether or not you are fit for the sanctuary's repopulation programme." He explained, not bothering to hide the pleasure it gave him to see her so unsettled.

Primrose huffed; Michael knew damn well she was a virgin, he just liked to see her squirm.

"This is obscene." She grumbled. "Yes, I am a virgin."

"And your preferences?"

"I'm straight, if that's what you mean."

He gave a small laugh before standing up from where he sat on the desk. He walked behind her chair, her heart thumping loudly in her chest with every footstep he took. "Hmph, no. By preferences I simply mean..." she felt something like electricity sparking on her skin as his hands made contact with her exposed shoulders. He leaned down to whisper in her ear.

"What turns you on?"

Primrose shot up out of her seat, her face flushed and her palms sweaty. She nervously paced up and down by the fireplace, unable to bear the heat of his gaze any longer.

After a long heavy silence, he spoke.

"It's power, isn't it?" he said.

She stopped pacing to turn to look at him. He was stalking towards her, gaze intense and fixed firmly upon her, staring her down as though she were his prey.

"You desire a power that is like nothing you've ever known. All your life spent hiding behind purity, secretly you have wished for a darkness to rise out of the earth to which you tend and taint you."

Suddenly he has her in his harsh embrace, and she shivers at the contact. It wasn't until he had her in his arms that she realized how truly touched-starved she was.

"Are you afraid of me?" He asks.

"I don't know." She answers, truthfully. "Do you want me to be?"

He licks his lips as he ponders his response, picking his next words with careful precision. "I don't want your fear, I want your cooperation." He answers. "I have been tasked with choosing the right people to help rebuild the world. I believe you're the kind of person I'm looking for."

"How do you know that?" She asks, breathily.

He leaned in, his eyes drawing her in like a moth to a flame. His face was so close now, she could feel his breath on her neck.

"Because I know you, Primrose. I am well acquainted with your beauty, so well acquainted in fact that I know there is a darkness to it. As light and as pure as you claim to be, you and I both know that deep down you crave me not in spite of my malignancy, but because of it. That, dear Primrose, is your true self."

"And in the old world, you had no choice but to hide your true self. In my world, there will be no hiding." He said with a sense of righteous finality.

"Your world? You're playing god, Langdon."

He laughs at this. "Not quite." He leans in and gently nips at her neck and she curses the moan that escapes her mouth.

"Michael... I know that this is dangerous."

"And I know that you don't care."

"Something tells me that I shouldn't... what about Venable? Her rules-"

"Her rules are bullshit." He gently pushed her backwards, her back now up against the wall. He leaned in to speak. "Even if they weren't, it wouldn't matter, would it? I know what I do to you. She could walk in on us fucking on my desk right now, and I know you'd be too gratified to care." His hand lazily tracing the outline of her breast underneath the stuffy Victorian attire.

"And what do I do to you, huh?" She retaliates. "I'm pretty sure you could have the pick of anyone in this bunker. Does this road go two ways?"

"I'd do anything for you, you know that." He said sincerely before bestowing a surprisingly tender kiss to her exposed shoulder. "I'd burn down the world for you."

"Bit late for that." She laughs. She can't remember the last time she had genuinely laughed. She notices a small smile appear on his face. Her heart swells at the sight. She had forgotten how much she'd missed him.

With this, he crashes their lips together with a fierce desire.

"My girl," he whispers to himself as his hands find their way underneath her skirt and petticoat. "You've always been my girl."

Tears of pleasure and confusion cloud her eyes, threatening to spill as his hands finally reach that sweet spot between her legs that no one has ever touched before, that spot that has been aching so much ever since he arrived. So much is happening so fast, she has so many reservations, so many questions yet she can't bring herself to ask any of them.

"You're mine. Say it."

"I-"

"Say it."

Overwhelmed, she pushes Michael forward, the tears now gently cascading down her blushing cheeks. She thinks she notices a look of hurt flash across his face before he quickly regains composure, his face returning to it's normal, indecipherable state.

"We will continue this interview another time." He spoke, quietly. "You may go."

Prim nodded frantically and mumbled a quick 'thank you' before hurriedly exiting the room. She ran all the way down the hall to her room, breathing a sigh of relief as she leaned her back against her door.

For the rest of the night, she couldn't stop replaying the interview over and over in her head. She might've once chastised herself for relinquishing control to a man like him, on the other hand maybe she would've revelled in it, she isn't quite sure. She's not quite sure of anything these days but what she is sure of is how safe she felt in Michael's arms. She can't remember the last time she felt that safe, if she ever even felt that good before. One touch of his hand and it melts away 18 months, 71 weeks, 547 days, 13,150 hours, 789,000 minutes, 47,340,000 seconds of loneliness and confusion.


	3. chapter two; pomegranate.

_Strong, commanding hands roaming her lithe form, teasingly exploring every area of her body bar one. Fingers lightly trailing her sensitive skin, the contact is brief and feather-like. She can't help but whine out of longing. The little touches aren't enough, and he knows this. He wants her so worked up, so frustrated, that she has no other choice but to **beg**  him to give her what she desperately needs. He needs her to fall from grace, to become a victim of temptation, a slave to her own desires. _

_"Stop teasing me." She implores him._

_"You've been teasing me for so long, it's only fair that I should get to tease you." He explains._

_"Fuck, please." She cries._

_"Such strong language from such a gentle girl." He laughed. It was rare for such words to fall from her graceful lips, to hear it was highly amusing for him._

_She feels so needy she could cry. "I'll do anything, please." She begs him._

_"Anything? Well, since you have asked so nicely..."_

Primrose awoke with a start; someone was tapping at her bedroom door. Her thighs burned and her face reddened as she recalled her dream from last night. She had dreamt of Michael, teasing her incessantly. His nimble fingers and smug voice stirred deep feelings within her. The dream had been both delicious and torturous; she had not been satisfied then and she was not satisfied now. She sighed, only half-awake as she approached the door in a post-sleep haze.

She opened the door to find a grey standing on the other side, a slip of paper in hand.

"Sorry to bother you, Miss Goode, but I was told to give you this, on the orders of Mr. Langdon." She handed the letter to Prim, dutifully.

"Thank you." Prim replied, politely. 

"Also, I was told by Ms. Venable to inform you that tonight's dinner will be a festive Halloween ball, with a costume dress code."

Prim's interest had been piqued at the idea of the Halloween dinner. The situation was dire, humanity was on the brink of failure, the food supply was running dangerously low, why hold a party?

The grey bowed and quickly scurried away back to work, Primrose closed the door behind her.

She then turned her attention to the letter in her hand. She noticed that the letter had been folded in half and sealed with wax. She broke the seal and carefully studied the sophisticated script;

_"Primrose,_

_I am writing to inform you that you will be (regretfully, I am sure) unable to attend the Halloween party this evening as your presence is required in my private quarters._

_I promise no tricks, only treats._

_Michael."_

Holding the letter to her chest, her mind still stuck on her dream from earlier, her thoughts began to run wild with all the possible directions the evening could go in. The tension between them was electric and undeniable, but she couldn't deny the guilt she felt either. She had promised her mother she would not go there with Michael, but her resolve always melted so quickly within his presence. Worst of all, she knew Michael would have to know what had happened to her mother and the coven, after all it wasn't that long ago that he was vying to become their leader, and she had not used her earliest opportunity to ask him about it; she was much too concerned with her carnal urges. She looked over at the bed where her body had lain aching for him; any desire she had felt this morning had been replaced with feelings of concern for her mother and the coven. She had decided; tonight she would try her damned hardest to resist her urges and ask Michael what she needed to know.

But first, a cold shower.

-

"You look beautiful." Michael said, sincerity evident in his voice.

They stood opposite each other in Michael's private quarter's, the room practically simmering with the energy between them. Primrose's appearance was very much the same as it had been the day before, but she knew that Michael still meant every word he said.

"Even without a Halloween costume?" She asked.

Michael took one step closer to her, his palm reaching out to cup her cheek. "You don't need a costume to be beautiful."

Sensing where the conversation was going, she attempted to fill the pause with one of her many questions, but Michael beat her to it.

"I have a gift for you." He smiled.

He extended his arm out and presented within his palm lay a single pomegranate. Her eyes widened in a mixture of joy and shock at the first glimpse of fresh food in over 18 months.

"H-how? B-but..."

"Let's just say I have my ways." He grinned, devilishly.

"I hope this is a treat and not a trick." She laughed, but curiously Michael did not respond.

"Everybody downstairs is getting a treat, one apple each. I wanted something special for you."

She looked down at the fruit he had placed in her hand. It looked ripe and delicious and the hunger pains grew stronger as she gazed upon it, almost overshadowing her intrigue and concerns.

"Michael I-"

"I know you came to me tonight with questions, and I promise to answer them all in due course, but I'm afraid that at the moment I cannot say anything until I can take you to where you'll be safe and secure in the sanctuary." He explained.

"You mean I got in?"

"Of course. You know I was only teasing with that re-population stuff. I do so love to see you squirm." He laughed. He placed both hands on either of her shoulders, his smile fading as he felt how tense she was underneath his touch.

She looked down at the fruit and hesitated. "I can trust you, can't I?"

"Of course," he sternly replied. "I've done this much for you, haven't I?"

"It's just that... my mother said..." She trailed off, meekly.

"What? What did your mother say about me?" He asked, the tone of his voice sharp.

"She said that you were-"

"Evil? A murderer? The literal antichrist?" He spat.

He paused to collect himself, his face easily slipping back into a mask of calm. He laughed mirthlessly, and affectionately ran his hand through her hair. "I know what she said and I know that you don't care, not really. For all your purported chastity and innocence, you don't care the man you love, the man you want to claim you, to touch you, to _fuck_  you, is the devil's spawn." He smiled, dangerously.

She could feel her resolve slowly melting away, and she both loved and hated it.

Gently, he guided her towards his bed, pushing her backwards until she found herself laying down on his plush bedding as he towered over her. She noticed that his bed was much nicer and much softer than the standard issue one that she had been sleeping on for over a year. He crawled over to her side, a knowing look in his eyes. "And I'll tell you why it is that you don't care." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bowie knife. "'Man's original body having been cut in two, each half yearned for the other half that had been severed. Love is simply the name for the desire and pursuit of the whole.'" He quoted as he cut the pomegranate in two, revealing its' ripened innards.

"What is it you're saying, Michael?" Her voice a desperate mix of confusion and desire as she propped herself up onto her elbows.

"I'm saying that those who have loved before will be born back together." Primrose felt something stirring deep within her, as if it had been buried there a long time ago and it was just now awakening. It felt ancient and knowing, and filled her with a strange sense of purpose that she hadn't fully noticed she was lacking. She felt like the scales had been removed from her eyes; she had heard these words and she had been in this position before.

"I know of your conception and your birth, and it is similar to mine." Michael continued. "We were sent here together. You were made to be beside me."

His words shouldn't have made sense, but somehow, to her they did.

"The push and the pull, the yin and the yang, the light and the dark. Two polar opposites that collide in order to become one. This is why we work, why we are meant to be together. There is a darkness in your beauty."

"And a beauty in your darkness." The words had come from her mouth, but she wasn't certain that it was her, Primrose Goode, who had spoken them. It felt like an ancient voice was inside of her, guiding her through her desire.

"For love, I will handle your sins." The ancient voice said.

With her silent nod of consent, he used his fingers to feed her the pomegranate seeds, the small noises of pleasure that she made as she greedily and hungrily accepted his fruit sent waves of arousal through his body. She felt rapturous, euphoric; she knew fruit shouldn't taste this good, and yet somehow it did. She could feel something within her shifting, her soul was rearranging. When all the fruit was gone, she looked up at his bright, blue eyes and sucked the juice clean off his fingers.

"Michael that was delicious. I don't know how to thank you."

"Oh, I can think of a few ways." He smirked.


	4. chapter three; twilight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CAUTION: graphic sexual content ahead. (also i am extremely tired so apologies if there are any mistakes ((plus im not entirely confident in my ability to write smut so))

_"I wish to show you the darkness you are so afraid of. Trust me. This darkness is a place you can enter and be as safe as you are anywhere; you can put one foot in front of the other and believe the sides of your eyes. Memorize it. You will know it again in your own time. When the appearances of things have left you, you will still have this darkness. Something of your own you can carry with you." -_ _Margaret Atwood, Selected Poems II; 1976-1986._

_-_

He discarded the remains of the fruit by tossing it haphazardly over his shoulder, not caring where it may land. He captured her lips in a slow, passionate kiss, relishing the lingering taste of pomegranate on her tongue.

"Give yourself over to me, to pleasure." He whispered as he climbed on top of her, his breath hot on her sensitive skin. "I know that you want it. You want it so badly, you've even dreamt it."

Her eyes widened in shock. "How do you-"

"I have my ways." He said, his voice smooth and sultry. "Let me finish what I started."

She felt herself burn under his fiery touch as she confirmed her consent with a shy, tentative kiss. Her gentleness seemed to throw him off balance.

"Good things so often leave me." He spoke quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. She thought he had all the control and she was merely his prey, but it was then that she realized he was just as drawn to her as she was to him, and this in itself was a power; he wants to bury himself in the light of her glow just as much as she should like to drown in the shadows of his twilight.

Their hands now roaming each other's bodies, his touch was much less fervent and desperate than it had been before. It felt softer and more caring as their intentions shifted from the frenzied heat of passion to the purest act of love.

"I want to see you, all of you. I want to look upon you as you were meant to be seen." He pulled her purple dress off carefully, the material slowly dragging down her sensitive form, revealing her white cotton undergarments. He took his time undressing her, relishing in every expanse of skin that was revealed to him. Like a kid on Christmas morning, he unwrapped her like the most sacred of gifts.

And then she was finally bare, laid naked before him she did not feel any apprehension or reservation; to have his eyes study her in her most natural state of being, it simply felt _right_.

"Beautiful, every inch." He whispered as she looked up at him, her eyes wide and full of innocence.

With his light touch, his ring-clad fingers explored her naked form, the flesh soft and responsive to every brush of his hand as he discovered which parts of her he liked especially, and where she liked to be touched. He deduced from the soft moans and the quickening of her breath that she particularly liked the cool contrast of his rings against her warm skin as he dragged his knuckles down from the valley of her breasts down to the aching mound between her legs.

Kneeling down at the end of the bed, he wrapped his muscular arms around her legs and gently pulled her closer to him. She mewled and writhed with anticipation as he pressed little kisses to the inside of her thighs, occasionally nipping at the flesh with his teeth, delighting in the noises she made in response.

The feeling of his breath mere inches away from the area which was now so sensitive, almost painfully so, was torturous enough but when his tongue finally made it's way from the crook of her thigh to centre of her heat, she thought she might honestly scream. He started off tentatively, noting each action that made vulgarities tumble from her mouth. He licked and sucked at her bud in a tormentingly slow fashion, until Primrose took initiative and entagled her fingers in his long, golden locks, quietly begging him for more.

Michael pulled his mouth away from her clit briefly, to which she let out a small cry, which soon turned into a loud moan as she felt the alien sensation of his finger gently nudging inside her. She hissed as he plunged a second finger inside her shortly thereafter, her body arching upward as he began to thrust them inside her. The feeling of his fingers inside her, the cold metal of his rings sending shockwaves through her entire body with every plunge, was quickly driving her to a state of sheer ecstasy she had not known was even achievable before.

Just as she felt a coil tightening within her, ready to explode at any moment, he withdrew from her abruptly.

"Michael." She whined at the loss of contact.

"Need to be inside you when you come." He mumbled his explanation, hurriedly fiddling with his belt.

Towering over her as he discarded his refined clothing piece by piece, she wrapped her legs around his waist as he pulled her up to sit in his lap, the contrasting feeling of his cold, naked thigh against her exposed heat making her gasp with pleasure.

"Oh, fuck." She moaned as his lips wrapped around the perky bud of her breast. The sensation of his mouth sucking on her sensitive nipple was overbearingly erotic, her hips began to grind against his thigh, searching for release.

"No more waiting," She panted. "Need you now."

Michael ceased his actions and looked deeply into her eyes. "Are you sure you're ready?"

She nodded and bestowed the smallest of kisses to the tip of his nose, to which he smiled one of his rare smiles, the kind that actually reached his eyes.

Slowly and carefully, he used his hand to guide his aching member inside of her, swallowing the loud moan that erupted from her mouth with his kiss. He released her from his kiss as soon as he was fully sheathed within her heat. She panted against his shoulder as she got used to the full feeling of his throbbing cock inside of her. It wasn't as painful as she had anticipated, but it was unfamiliar, to say the least.

"We go at your pace, sweetheart." He said, peppering kisses along the crook of her neck, all the way down to the dips of her collarbones.

She gave a nod of understanding as words failed her; the current sensation was unlike anything she had ever felt before. She lifted her hips experimentally and then slammed them back down; both of them crying out in pleasure from her actions.

Slowly but surely she found her rhythm, with every plunge she felt her trepidation melt away and in its place she felt pure exultation. So much built up tension and anticipation lay thick between them, they both knew neither of them would last very long.

His mouth once again pressed against hers, his hands trailed down from her stomach toward the sensitive bud between her legs.

"Oh, right there Michael, please." She cried out, the combined feeling of his hands and his cock proving too much for Prim as she felt the makings of her orgasm building deep within her belly.

"That's it, baby." He cooed, encouragingly. "Come for me."

He could feel her walls gradually tightening and spasming as they moved together, not just intertwining their bodies but also their souls. The light sheen of sweat on their skin was made visible by the dim candlelight as they each desperately searched for their own release.

"I-i... love you!" She exclaimed, as her orgasm tore through her. Her mind blanked as the feeling washed over her in waves, the sensation too pleasurable for her to think of anything other than him. He followed quickly after, spurting his seed deep inside her, collapsing on top of her with a groan as their heads hit the pillows.

"I love you too." He replied breathlessly.

They spent a few moments like this, naked atop his sheets, trying to regulate their breathing. Michael looked over at Primrose and noticed her stifling a yawn and took it upon himself to pull the blanket from underneath them and draped it over them both. Gathering her up with his arms, he held her tired body close to his chest.

"You are the only light I have ever known." He said quietly before placing a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

She felt the ancient presence once more, it was calling out to her and lulling her into deep unconsciousness.

She found herself peacefully drifting off to sleep, lost in the feeling of being in Michael's arms.


	5. chapter four; immaculate conception.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> caution; this chapter contains graphic depiction of childbirth and major character death. also for conveniences sake y'all are gonna have to pretend that myrtle didn't get burned at the stake and then later resurrected mmkay.

_***Before the apocalypse...*** _

 

Primrose Goode was sat on both knees in the flowerbed, dirt lightly gracing the skin of her shins as she tended to her fledgling rose bushes. She could easily use her magic to conjure up all sorts of plants (she had always been extremely adept at the magical art of horticultural witchcraft), but given that the garden was one of the very few places Cordelia allowed her to relax and play in unattended, she preferred to take the slow path, and let her flora and vegetation grow naturally.

"Oh, what darling rosebushes. Simply divine-looking, dear."

Momentarily tearing her eyes away from her work, Prim looked up and nodded a 'thank you' to the red-headed witch that was watching her amongst the flowers.

"By the way, your mother is asking that you come speak with her in her office. I believe the matter is of some importance."

"Okay, tell her I'll be right there, aunt Myrtle." Prim stood up and dusted the dry earth off of her limbs; these roses would have to wait. Her mother rarely spoke with her in the office as she didn't like to involve her in coven business. Cordelia was intensely protective of her only daughter, her 'miracle baby' she had called her. She knew that Primrose was much younger than she looked, and therefore didn't want to burden her with things she wasn't ready for. She also was insistent that her daughter should have the carefree, loving upbringing she never quite got from Fiona. More than anything else though, she worried incessantly for Prim's safety. Cordelia had spent so long praying for a child, she often thought that if she so much as took her eyes off Prim she might disappear.

Primrose popped her head around the door-frame of her mother's office; Cordelia was sat at her desk, her head propped up by both hands. She was looking off into the distance, her face somewhat contemplative, like she was considering something very seriously.

"You wanted to see me?" Primrose asked, stepping in front of the desk, her muddy hands clasped together around her back.

Cordelia's features softened as she took in her daughter's disheveled appearance. Cordelia liked her best like this, half-feral and hardy and free. It made her appear more like the child she was. Mothers always lament their children growing older, but for Cordelia to see her baby grow so rapidly, well, it had been disconcerting at best.

She knew from the beginning that her baby was not, for lack of a better word, _normal_. But Cordelia still loved her fiercely, and would die for her if she had to.

After all...

She had already done that once already.

 

-

 

_"The roads are blocked, they said it's gonna take at least another hour to get here."_

_It was a late Thursday evening, and New Orleans was well into one of the worst storms it had seen in recent years. While the coven house was protected by magic, the rest of the city was facing almighty wind and rain, the weather was waging war on every street as people were being urged to evacuate._

_Cordelia lurched forward from where she sat up against the headboard of the bed, panting wildly through the pain. "I can't wait that long, I need to push now!" She screamed, grasping the bedsheet tightly within her fists._

_"It's true," Myrtle confirmed from in between her supreme's legs. "I can already see the head."_

_"Oh, this shouldn't even be happening! I'm only six months along!" Cordelia despaired._

_Realizing that waiting for an ambulance was useless, Zoe hung up the phone and bit her lip in frustration. **Come on! Think!**_

_"The new girl! Cindy!" Zoe exclaimed. "She told me she was a midwife before she came here!"_

_"You must fetch her at once!" Myrtle cried, wiping the sweat from Cordelia's brow._

_Zoe burst through the white doors of the master bedroom, pushing past the crowd of witches that had gathered outside in the hall upon hearing the screams. She returned moments later, a meek and nervous looking blonde girl in tow, who Cordelia presumed to be Cindy._

_Cindy anxiously approached her bedside with a suede satchel in hand. She almost lost her grip on its handle as she flinched at the bloody scream Cordelia let out. Kneeling down at the foot of the bed, the young girl winced as she inspected the scene underneath the thin white sheet Myrtle had placed on Cordelia's lower half for modesty's sake. The amount of blood staining the bed was not encouraging; truthfully, she had never seen so much blood before._

_Cindy let out a ragged breath as her shaking hands opened the contents of her bag._

_"Please tell me you have drugs in there." Cordelia wept._

_Cordelia's eyes widened as Cindy pulled out a large metal object from her bag. "I'm afraid it's something quite altogether different from that." She gulped._

_"What on earth is that?" Myrtle exclaimed, rubbing Cordelia's shoulder in an effort to calm her down._

_"Forceps." The girl explained. "To help guide the baby's head out of the birth canal."_

_"It looks absolutely barbaric!" The red-headed witch shrieked._

_"But necessary, unfortunately. The labor hasn't progressed far enough for the baby to be pushed out unassisted, but the safety of both mother and baby relies upon immediate delivery."_

_Cordelia leaned her head on Myrtle's shoulder, weeping uncontrollably. The pain was unlike anything she had ever experienced before, and she had been violently blinded, **twice.**_

_"Come on, you can do this." Cindy nervously mumbled to herself as she fumbled with the metal tongs._

_"I'm sorry, you said this woman was a midwife?" Myrtle scoffed._

_"I-in training, actually. I've only done this before in theory." Cindy admitted._

_Myrtle wanted to rage at her, to tell her to take her instruments of torture and get out, but looking down at the girl she thought of as a daughter writhing in pain, she knew that the inexperienced witch was their only hope. Any hesitation Myrtle had vanished when she felt the horrible cold feeling of Cordelia's lifeforce slowly slipping away from her._

_"Do it." Myrtle ordered, gravely._

_Cindy nodded and told Cordelia to brace herself. She placed two fingers inside her, beside the baby's head, and then as gently as possible she slid one portion of the forceps between her hand and the baby's head, followed by placement of the other portion of the forceps on the other side of the head. Cordelia winced at the intrusion as the forceps were then locked together to cradle the baby's cranium._

_"During the next few contractions, you'll push and I will use the forceps to gently guide your baby through the birth canal." Cindy explained, trying her very best to steady her shaky voice. "Do you think you can do that for me, Cordelia?" Cindy looked up at her supreme and felt indescribable dread flood through her system as she realized the woman was not even strong enough to give a response._

_Myrtle noticed this too and gave Cordelia's hand a firm squeeze. "Come on, Delia. You can do this, I know you can."_

_Nodding weakly, Cordelia began to push and Cindy guided the baby's head._

_"Almost there, Cordelia. I just need one more great big push, okay?"_

_It was then that Cordelia realized she had limited energy left; she would have to spend it all on pushing her baby out, and there would not be enough left for her to survive. Knowing she was about to die, she focused all her concern on the welfare of her child._

_With one final push, her baby fully exited the womb with a healthy wail. With the knowledge that her baby, whom she had waited a lifetime for just the honor of carrying, would be the last noise she ever heard, Cordelia peacefully slipped into the abyss that had been calling out to her._

_Oblivious to Cordelia's departure, everyone in the room was enchanted by the beautiful baby that lay squirming in Cindy's arms. She dutifully clamped and cut the umbilical cord before proclaiming the baby's gender; it was a healthy baby girl. Cindy then wrapped the infant in a towel that Zoe had placed at the bedside, and went to place her in mother's arms before recoiling with horror at the sight of Cordelia's lifeless body._

_"Oh, Delia! No!" Myrtle sobbed, shaking Cordelia's limp body viciously as though it might wake her up._

_Cindy felt her heart drop into the pit of her stomach; this was her fault. Her brain ran through all the decisions she'd made, such as accepting the responsibilty of delivering a baby knowing full well she wasn't qualified, and her decision to use the forceps knowing it carried risks._

_"You... you... you swine! You careless oaf! Your medieval methods have cost us our supreme!" Myrtle roared with grief at the young girl._

_Cindy considered running away, hell she felt so guilty she couldn't help but momentarily consider suicide._

_But no. Cindy dug in her heels, and after handing the baby girl to Zoe, she walked around the bed to the side where Cordelia's corpse lay._

_"Oh, haven't you done enough?" Myrtle protested._

_Cindy leaned down closer toward Cordelia's mouth, exhaling softly and praying a silent prayer to Saint Jude that this would work. She then inhaled sharply, closing her eyes and focusing all her energy on Cordelia._

_Cindy's eyes snapped open at the sound of Cordelia gasping for air._

_Myrtle clasped her hands to her chest with delight. "Oh, my dear girl! You came back!"_

_Cindy, now assuaged of guilt, stood up from where she sat with a victorius smile upon her face. "I did it!" The young girl exclaimed proudly. In all her triumph, however, Zoe noticed the girl had started to wobble._

_"I did it! I did-" Thrusting the baby into Mytrle's arms, Zoe rushed behind Cindy to catch her as she briefly fell unconscious._

_Cindy mumbled an apology as Zoe manouevoured her backwards into a chair._

_"It's okay, balancing the scales of life and death will do that to a person." Zoe laughed, lightly._

_"I-is the baby... is the baby okay?" Cordelia inquired, still very weak from the delivery._

_"Oh, Delia. It's a miracle! She's perfectly healthy!" Myrtle exclaimed in jubilation, cradling the precious infant in her arms as Cordelia tried her best to prop herself up to gaze upon her newborn child._

_"S-she? It's a she? I have a daughter?" Cordelia cried, happy tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She wanted to hold her desperately, but still lacking in energy Cordelia could barely keep her eyes open._

_"Its okay, dear." Myrtle smiled, patting Cordelia's arm affectionately. "You rest now."_

_Cordelia, exhausted from the day's events, succumbed to sleep._

_She awoke next morning to the sun filtering through the white curtains, casting light on the baby that lay sleeping in Myrtle's arms, contentedly sucking from the bottle which Myrtle was using to feed her._

_Myrtle felt Cordelia's eyes on her and smiled warmly. "Ah, you're awake. As is most of the house, due to a combination of the terrible weather last night, and your daughter's excellent set of lungs."_

_Cordelia, already feeling much stronger than she did last night, sat up in her bed and requested to hold her daughter, to which Myrtle did not hesitate to comply._

_"Have you thought of a name for her?" She inquired._

_"No," Cordelia said, rocking her baby gently in her arms. "I was only six months along so I thought I'd have plenty of time to consider names."_

_"By the way," Myrtle began, "the warlocks have sent you this bouquet along with their warmest congratulations on the birth of your daughter. Speaking of flowers, I ought to send some to that poor girl from last night. I was... rather short with her, to say the least." She grimaced._

_Cordelia looked over at the bouquet that Myrtle had lovingly arranged in the vase on her nightstand. "Primroses? Isn't it a bit odd to send wildflowers?"_

_"Yes, well. Men are indeed odd. What do they know about the art of floristry?" Myrtle said, shaking her head. "I mean of all the flowers to send a new mother."_

_"Why? Do primroses mean something bad?" Cordelia asked._

_"Heavens no. It's simply an unusual choice. The Victorians believed in gifting them to a person you held great affection for. The most popular meaning for the primrose is quite simply 'I can't live without you'"._

_Cordelia watched Myrtle leaned down to inhale the flower's scent._

_"Hmph. Primrose." Cordelia said, thoughtfully. "I like that."_

 

-

 

Shaking these thoughts from her head, she got up from where she sat at the desk and enveloped Prim in a hug.

"You're going to get mud on you!" Primrose giggled, returning the embrace warmly.

Cordelia withdrew from the hug and placed both hands on either side of her daughter's head. "Misty would've adored you." Cordelia said, softly.

Prim rubbed her mother's shoulder as a show of support; Cordelia rarely spoke of Misty, she found the subject to be too upsetting to bring up too often, which made Prim wonder why she had decided to bring her up now.

"Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?" Primrose asked, cocking her head to the side inquisitively.

Cordelia hesitated. "It's not entirely unrelated, but no." She replied, evasively. Cordelia motioned to the chair behind her and offered for her to sit.

"Do you remember two weeks ago, when I left for an emergency meeting with the council?"

Primrose nodded in affirmation.

"The council was called to discuss a matter regarding the supremacy." Said Cordelia, gravely. "My position is being challenged."

Primrose stared up at her mother in confusion, the gravity of what she was saying not registering in her juvenile mind.

Cordelia crouched down to talk to Primrose at her level. "You remember me telling you about my mother, your grandmother, Fiona?"

Prim nodded. "She was supreme and then she died."

"Yes," Cordelia confirmed. "She had to die in order for me to become supreme."

Primrose suddenly understood what her mother was implying.

"But... won't that mean that you...?" Prim began to panic at the thought of losing her mother, her hands shaking and a lump steadily rising in her throat at the very thought of it.

"Hey, look at me." Cordelia clasped her daughter's hands tightly within her own. Primrose looked up to meet her mother's eyes and found that they too were glossed over with tears.

"My beautiful girl." Cordelia sighed, reminiscently. "I still remember the day I found out I was pregnant with you."

 

-

 

_Myrtle exhaled smoke upward into the air, her vape pen hanging daintily from her hand as she stood outside the bathroom, the sound of Cordelia retching inside escaping underneath the door._

_"Poor dear." Myrtle tutted. "A rising supreme is supposed to be at the height of her powers and her health, and yet here you are, no less than a day after your coronation with your head in the toilet bowl. Perhaps it's a case of too many celebratory flutes of burnt champagne?"_

_Cordelia wiped her mouth with the back of hand as she emerged from the bathroom, the faintest of smiles playing upon her lips._

_"_ _I am in **perfect** health, Myrtle." She whispered. _

_Myrtle stood in the doorway, confusion evident upon her face._

_She took Myrtle's free hand and placed it over her stomach, her smile widening as she watched the realization on Myrtle's face._

_"Oh, b-but... surely you don't mean?" Myrtle covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes now glossing over with tears of happiness._

_The two women embraced each other warmly, both overcome with joy at the news._

_"H-how?" Myrtle asked, pulling away to look at Cordelia._

_Cordelia shrugged her shoulders. "I suppose I'm merely blessed."_

 

-

 

"A beautiful child of immaculate conception. So long had I prayed for you. My life beforehand had been barren and desolate; it was truly the winter of my discontent. You came along and brought with you the springtime. You brought me life." Cordelia sniffled. "And now I am faced with death."

"Don't say that, Mom!" Primrose desperately exclaimed.

Once more, Cordelia held the girl in her arms. Primrose was so helpless on her own, she thought to herself. The most painful part of it all was the thought of leaving her.

"I suppose what I am trying to say is," Cordelia said, regaining her composure. "Difficult times are ahead. I want you closer to me, so I can keep an eye on you."

Primrose didn't like the idea of her already limited freedom being restricted even further, but she understood the profundity of the situation and yielded.

"That's why when I leave for California today, I would like you to accompany me. I can't take any chances in the current magical climate." Cordelia said, ominously.

"Something is coming."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just wanted to say like fyi that i have never given birth nor have i ever trained as a midwife, my knowledge on that stuff is pretty limited so part of the reason i had such an inexperienced character to deliver the baby was so like if theres any inaccuracies its bc cindy doesnt know shit and its not just me being a terrible writer lmao. also this chapter is a little longer than usual bc ill be busy all day tomorrow so i wont be updating until sunday (uk time) at the earliest. peace x


	6. chapter five; divine intervention.

"W-what's happening?"

Cordelia's hand shakily wiped the blood from under her nose, staring at the crimson color of her fingers in shock.

"What always happens when a new Supreme rises." The chancellor said, smugly. His air of superiority and lack of compassion for her mother made Prim's stomach clench with revulsion.

"The old one fades away." Behold chimed in.

"That's my mother you're talking about, asshole!" Primrose seethed, standing in front of her mother protectively.

"We demand what's ours!" Ariel proclaimed.

"You are a pathetic pompous ass." Myrtle quipped, propping Cordelia up.

"I did everything you asked!" Michael's sudden authoritative outburst caught everyone in the room by surprise. "I did what you couldn't; I descended into hell and I brought her back." Michael said, triumphantly. His eyes remained firmly on Cordelia, only once briefly flickering over to her daughter beside her. "I passed the seven wonders... unless you wanna add another one." He added, sarcastically.

"No, no." Replied Cordelia, quite feebly. "There can't be no doubt. You are the next suprem-"

"Mom!" Primrose fell to her knees to help her ailing mother who had fallen to the ground, unconscious. She held her mother's head in her hands and gently shook it while desperately shouting for her to wake up. She felt Myrtle's arms pulling her off of Cordelia as Misty bent down to revive her old supreme. Distraught, Prim had no energy to resist Myrtle's hold on her, and turned around to collapse in her Aunt's embrace. Sobbing into her brightly colored jacket, Primrose could just about see over Myrtle's bushy red hair. She saw Michael, the next supreme, stood victoriously with his warlocks, and he was smiling.

-

Primrose let out a deep sigh as she studied the stars above her in the night sky; she couldn't see as many stars as she usually saw in New Orleans. _Must be that Californian smog_ , she remarked to herself.

"Not a Fleetwood Mac fan?"

Prim was jolted out of her thoughts by the male voice behind her. "No," she turned to face Michael stood imposingly by the entrance to the school. "I-i just needed some air." She stuttered, nervously. "It's stuffy underground."

The dry grass crunched underneath Michael's leather shoes as he approached her. She felt trepidatious as he drew nearer, not used to the solely male company. "I don't blame you. It's been quite the evening." He gave out a small laugh.

"For you, perhaps." Primrose said, sadly.

The only noise now was the chirruping of the dry desert insects and the low howling of the rushing wind.

"And why are you here? I thought you might want to bask in your new found glory as supreme." She asked, curiosity evident in her voice.

"To see you, make sure you're alright." He replied.

She gathered the courage to look over at the man stood next to her properly, trying to guess his intentions. As much as her gut told her there was something dangerous about him, that she ought to be cautious around him, she could not deny his beauty. He looked like the creation of God, the pinnacle of divinity.

"With all due respect sir, what difference does my well-being make to you?" She asked quietly, noticing he was suddenly much closer to her than he was before.

"Well, speaking as your anointed supreme," he began, a wolfish grin appearing on his features. "I am concerned for the welfare of all magical peoples within my coven."

"And speaking as a man," She gasped as she felt his cold hand wrap around hers, bringing it up towards his mouth to place a gentle kiss on the top of her knuckles. "I am concerned for the well-being of the most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

She felt her jaw drop at his admission; where had this come from?

"I-i didn't think you'd even noticed me." She replied.

"Of course I did." He whispered. "How could I not? How could any man not notice a goddess before him? I can certainly see why your mother keeps you all locked up." He chuckled, darkly. Her hand still firmly within his grip, he used it to pull her closer. She stared up at him with wide, expectant eyes. "Don't be afraid," he said quietly, using his other hand to cup the side of her face, smiling as she leaned into his embrace. "I feel it too."

"What is this?" She asked, innocently. She almost felt guilty for melting so quickly before the man who would soon replace her mother in the coven, but she couldn't deny the feelings between them, it was screaming out in the blood of her veins.

"Lesser brings might call our meeting serendipitous." He spoke softly, his voice soothing like the night wind. "I call it divine intervention."

"I'm sorry, but you will never meet again." Primrose jumped back and away from Michael at the sound of her mother's voice. Prim didn't even need to look at her to know that she was now in deep trouble. Cordelia had specifically told her when they arrived that she was not to wander off, she was not to talk to any strangers, and most importantly she was not to talk to Michael, and she had just done all three.

Realizing her mistakes, she obediently ran to her mother's side, not even daring to look back. She could sense her mother's barely restrained anger as she spoke.

"I speak now not as your supreme, but as Prim's mother. You can't ever see her again." Not even giving Michael a chance to respond, Cordelia dragged Prim back into the school by her arm.

Primrose looked over her shoulder to gaze upon Michael one last time but he was not there.


	7. chapter six; every rose has it's thorn (and love will make monsters of us all.)

_"Just when the earliest sunshine glides through earth's mountain tops, two beings have come into life, not in such an Eden as bloomed to welcome our first parents, but in the heart of a modern city. They find themselves in existence, and gazing into one another's eyes. Their emotion is not astonishment; nor do they perplex themselves with efforts to discover what, and whence, and why they are. Each is satisfied to be, because the other exists likewise; and their first consciousness is of calm and mutual enjoyment, which seems not to have been the birth of that very moment, but prolonged from a past eternity. Thus content with an inner sphere which they inhabit together, it is not immediately that the outward world can intrude itself upon her notice." -The New Adam and Eve, Nathaniel Hawthorne._

-

"Hello, Prim."

Primrose had been cloud gazing on her back at the end of a long day in her garden, when a male voice had broken through her daydreaming and interrupted her solitude. As her body jolted forward to sit up, her eyes were met with the sight of none other than the rising supreme himself, Michael Langdon.

There he stood, hands clasped behind his back with a sly smile, his gaze upon her unflinching. She hadn't been expecting to see him again after their encounter at the warlock school, and yet here he was. She noticed that he was in his school uniform; smart, tailored suit, with a carefully pressed white shirt and thin black tie. His hair styled perfectly, he looked every inch a gentleman, and it made Primrose feel self-conscious to be around him with her dirty, ripped white tea dress and wild untamed hair.

"H-hello." She nervously replied.

"Your garden is very impressive. Am I right in thinking this is all your work?" He looked around the sprawling, flourishing garden with a sense of curiosity.

"Yes, it is." She confirmed, her eyes planted firmly on the ground, too nervous to look at him directly for too long. When Michael crouched down to speak with her on her level, she had nowhere else to look but at him; he smiled softly as she finally made eye contact.

"And am I right in thinking that you perhaps possess more than a mere green thumb?" He chuckled. "Many of these exotic plants should not even be able to survive in this climate, and yet here they are thriving."

She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Y-you are right. Many of these plants I conjured myself."

"Fascinating." He whispered, his face much closer now than it was before. Primrose instinctively backed away, which seemed to amuse him.

"I make you nervous." He stated, standing up once more.

"I'm not used to being in the presence of men, certainly not on my own." He laughed at this; _why does he find this so amusing?_ she thought.

"Yes, I did notice that your mother keeps you on quite the tight leash." He walked over to the rosebushes and leaned down to inhale their scent, deeply. "If I remember rightly, I believe she forbade me to ever talk to you again." He plucked a rose from the shrubbery and returned to face Prim once more, offering it to her.

She stood up to accept his gift, and as their hands made contact around the flower she felt a sharp sting in her forefinger; the flesh had been pierced by a thorn. Dropping the flower to cradle her now bleeding finger, she let out a squeak of pain.

Michael's hand was on hers once more, guiding her injured finger to his mouth. Without warning, he placed it in his mouth and started to suck. Unable to tear her eyes off him as his tongue swirled around the digit, she had to suppress a moan at the overwhelming sensuality of it all.

"Why are you here?" She inquired, breathlessly, as Michael released her finger from his mouth with a wet pop. "New Orleans is very far from California."

"Why do you come here to look at the flowers?" He retorted.

She paused for a moment. "I come here because I like to admire their natural beauty. I like to watch them and look after them. Or sometimes it's because I'm lonely."

"Let's just say I'm here for similar reasons." He smiled softly.

"Primrose?" A voice called from within the house.

"You have to go! My mother won't be happy to know I've been talking to you after specifically forbidding me from doing so!" She panicked, yet Michael seemed unbothered, relenting only with Prim's insistence.

"Prim? Where are you?" The voice called once more.

"Would you mind if I visit you again sometime?" Michael asked.

Primrose looked at the boy before her. He was so angelic looking, and enigmatic. How could she ever say no?

"I think I would like that." She smiled. He returned the smile, and with a snap, he was gone.

Prim looked down at the rose she had dropped, laying on the grass. When Michael had offered it to her, it was red and fresh, but now it was brown and dry.

_Dead._

"Curiouser and curiouser." She spoke aloud to herself, picking up the dead flower and concealing it's head tightly within her palm.

"There you are!" Zoe emerged from the porch. "Dinner's almost ready, you know." The older witch turned to head back inside but Prim stopped her.

"Aunt Zoe?" She asked, chewing her bottom lip nervously.

"Everything alright, Prim?" Zoe asked, a look of concern on her face.

"How did you know you were in love with Uncle Kyle?"

Zoe cocked an eyebrow at the younger girl, inquisitively. "Why? Are you in love?"

Primrose began to blush, intensely.

"Oh my god!" Zoe gasped. "Is it the cute mailman? I _knew_  I saw you staring at him!"

"God, no! He's ancient!" Prim exclaimed.

Zoe snorted. "He's like 30, at most."

"See! Ancient!" She laughed. "Seriously, though. How did you know you were in love?"

"Well, when you fall in love..." Zoe hesitated. "When you fall in love, it's kind of like you go crazy." She said, solemnly. "Before you know it, the whole world is different and then you'd do anything for the other person."

"What if the person you love is bad?" Prim asked, quietly.

"Well then sometimes we have to let the people we love go, like uncle Kyle." Zoe said, melancholy evident in her voice.

Prim was only small, but she still remembered her mother explaining to her why Kyle had had to end in fire for hurting one of the other witches.

"What if we don't want to?" The younger girl asked, her voice small and apprehensive.

"I didn't want to burn Kyle," Zoe said, bluntly. "I even considered betraying my coven to protect him. Can you believe that I would think of doing something so detrimental to my sisters and to myself, for some twisted love? The things we do for a love like that are ugly, mad, full of sweat and regret. That kind of love burns you and maims you and twists you inside out."

"It is a monstrous love and it makes monsters of us all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> high fives to anyone who recognises where i pinched zoe's dialogue from ;)


	8. chapter seven; the meadow.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are..."

Primrose held her hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter as she stood still as a statue in her hiding place.

Michael smirked as he saw the skirt of her dress blowing gently in the breeze, revealing her position behind the tree trunk. He stalked towards her quietly, slowly approaching the hiding place until...

_*crack!*_

He rounded the corner and she had gone.

"That's cheating, you know!" He shouted, playfully. He could hear her giggling faintly in the distance.

_*pop!*_

He transmutated to the spot in front of her behind the large rock, where she'd been hiding.

"Two can play at that game." He grinned. He reached out to grab her before she disappeared again.

_*snap*_

Primrose was running now, not even trying to hide. Her bare feet, the soles brown from the earth, ran through the soft green grass of the meadow. She had never been to the meadow without a chaperone, but she decided to bring Michael here so they could play freely. She felt so rebellious here...

In the meadow.

Unsupervised.

With a boy.

The adrenaline of the chase was rising in her chest and exiting her in the form of laughter. _This is so much fun!_  she thought to herself. _I feel just like a regular girl._

In her state of jubilation, she hadn't noticed Michael transmute right in front of her. He captured her in his arms, but the force from her running knocked them both over and they tumbled together toward the earth.

"Found you." He spoke, breathlessly.

Primrose had landed on top of him in the fall, and she quickly became aware of how close their bodies were. She had never been so close to another man like this, and she felt electricity running through her body at the sensation.

His hair, once perfectly coiffed, had fallen in front of his clear blue eyes. She pushed the curls behind his ear, her fingers trailing across his skin, taking in each detail, tracing the contour of his face.

"You're a very nurturing person, aren't you?" Michael smiled.

Primrose shrugged. "I like looking at something barren and seeing what can be done with it."

"Then perhaps you're the person I've been looking for." He said.

Prim raised an eyebrow.

"You are caring." He clarified. "It's rare for me to come across someone like you."

Prim felt her heart ache at his admission. She didn't know much about Michael beyond his powers, but she could tell he'd had his heart broken once or twice. The sadness rolled off of him in waves.

"You know, I think you're the only person I've ever met that hasn't wanted something from me." He laughed, mirthlessly.

He rolled them over, her back gently hitting the ground as his broad frame now enveloped her, like a dark cloud blocking out the sun.

"You're so mysterious," Prim observed. "Why is it you say so little about yourself?" She asked.

"There's very little to say." He replied evasively. He leaned in forward, a wicked grin stretching across his face. "And what about you?"

Primrose started to squirm beneath his touch, her naivety only spurring him on. "Me? Michael, you already know everything there is to know about me."

"I know what your powers are, and I know who your mother is, and what she would do to us if she saw us together like this, but I don't really know _you_." He ran his hand up her body, starting from the exposed skin of her upper thigh, to the dips of her hips and waist, till his hand reached the spot just beneath her breast. Prim gasped at the contact.

"Michael, I don't know what you mean."

"I mean, what are your... desires?" With his last word, his palm reached the expanse of her breast, the action exciting her more than she'd care to admit.

"Is it me?" He asked, his voice low and seductive. "Do you desire me?"

"I'll bet you've never even been kissed, have you little lamb?" He chuckled, darkly. "Do you want that?"

She nodded her head frantically as he lowered his head to place a chaste kiss to the lower part of her neck.

"Can't hear you, princess." He said, teasingly. "What is it you want? Who is it you want?"

"M-Michael, it's you. I-i want you." She let out of the smallest of moans, the vibration of her voice against his cheek awakening the deep desire within him.

"You want me and I want you, and that's all either of us needs to know." He spoke, firmly.

Her fingers ran through his soft blonde hair as he leaned in to finally place a kiss upon her lips, until suddenly her grip became too tight and she pulled sharply at the root. He winced at the unforeseen pain in his scalp as her eyes glazed over and her lips parted. He looked at her and she looked through him, as if she were seeing past him and looking at what was inside.

"Constance... she left you..."

Michael felt the air grow cold as he realized what she was doing. He removed her hands from his hair and pinned them both above her head. "Don't ever speak that name." He warned her, his fingers digging into her wrists painfully.

"Wandering that big, empty house all those years..."

"Stop it." He begged, angry tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

"...so alone... so alone..." she sobbed, gently.

The shock of his fingernails piercing through her skin, marking the flesh with crescent moon shapes was enough to jolt her out of her trance. She looked up at him and felt immeasurable guilt when she saw the look of hurt on his face; the hurt she had inadvertently caused.

"I'm sorry, I-i didn't mean to do that." She stuttered.

"No one's ever been able to do that to me." He sniffed, looking away as he wiped the tears from his cheeks with the sleeve of his jacket.

"You are lonely..." she said tenderly, Michael's eyes now desperately searching hers for any hint of deception; he hadn't been this vulnerable with anyone in a long time, and every other instance had ended painfully.

"I'm lonely too."

Suddenly their lips are connected, violently and passionately, teeth clash and collide with frenzied sexual hostility. He bites down on her lip and she retaliates by lifting her hips upward to grind against the now prominent bulge in his trousers. She panted against his ear as he rutted against her, her legs wrapped around his figure, inviting him in. She needed him like she had never needed anything before. She wanted him inside her, permeating every inch of her being, invading every corner until there was nothing left of her; she wanted only him.

But she would not have him.

Not if Cordelia had anything to do with it.


	9. chapter eight; we need to talk about michael (and the story of narcissus.)

_"There is no greater sorrow_

_Than to be mindful of the happy time_

_In misery."_

_-Inferno, Dante Alighieri._

-

One minute they had been lying together blissfully in the green grass, two young bodies rutting against one another in the soft mid-day sun; the next, Michael was dragged backwards with magical force, his back colliding with a nearby tree, the force of the push knocking the wind out of him.

"You don't _ever_  touch her again." Cordelia seethed, her eyes glared daggers at the crumpled mess of a boy that now lay on the meadow floor.

Michael stared up at her defiantly with a face like thunder, his eyes giving true meaning to the phrase 'if looks could kill'. Her attention then turned to her daughter, and Primrose gulped at the rare sight of an infuriated Cordelia. Before Primrose could protest, the formidable form of her mother had grabbed her by the arm and transmutated them both back to the house.

-

"What in the  _hell_ were you thinking?" Primrose stared at her feet, equal parts embarrassed and ashamed of what her mother had caught her doing.

"Mom, it's not that bad. We were only kissing." She mumbled.

"It looked like a bit more severe than that." Cordelia said, gravely.

Primrose rolled her eyes. "Even if it was more than kissing, it's still not the worst thing that could happen."

"At this point, the enemy seducing and sleeping with my daughter _is_  the worst thing that could happen."

Primrose scoffed. "The _enemy_? Since when is our new supreme the enemy?"

"He is not our new supreme." Cordelia spoke, ominously.

Prim sighed, deeply. "Mother, I know that this is a difficult time for you. And I understand that, and I want to be there for you, to help you. But there's really no need to take it out on Michael!"

"Primrose, he is the antichrist!" Cordelia exclaimed.

"Oh mother, you do exaggerate!" Primrose ran her hand through her hair with agitation; her mother had clearly lost the plot. 

"He is a being of pure evil!"

"He is not, you clearly have no idea what you are talking about."

"And you do?" Cordelia scoffed.

"Yes I do!" she said, passionately. "I do know his heart, because he has given it to me! I know that he loves me!"

"You're a child." She spat. "You don't know anything about love."

"How is it my fault if I don't know things when you never let me learn!"

Cordelia wearily raised squeezed the bridge of her nose, her eyes screwed shut with barely restrained annoyance. "Stop this now."

"I will not! You can't control my entire life! You can't hide me from everything!"

"I said enough."

"You think I would make your mistakes?"

"Primrose, I am warning you!"

"Just because your relationships failed doesn't mean mine will!"

_*smack*_

Primrose held her cheek in shock. Cordelia stood rooted to the spot, frozen. Cordelia opened her mouth to apologize but Prim had already sprinted down the corridor to her room and slammed the door shut, the noise of the smack and the door slamming shut endlessly reverberating around Cordelia's mind. Already the guilt felt like a huge weight within the pit of her stomach. She had vowed never to treat her child the way Fiona treated her and yet here she was, standing redundantly in the corridor as her daughter cried herself to sleep.

-

A few hours had passed when Prim heard a knock at the door. She elected to ignore whoever was on the other side and simply rolled over to the other side of the bed. The knocking did not cease, however, and the visitor eventually let themselves in. Ever defiant, Primrose did not roll over to acknowledge the person sitting at the end of her bed.

"Prim?" She recognized her mother's voice. "Prim honey?" She recognized her mother's voice was shaking.

"I'm so sorry, Prim." She whispered.

"Yeah." Prim sighed and sat up slowly. "You should be."

"I am so sorry for hurting you and I promise never to do it again." She said, her voice cracking slightly.

"Are you sorry for what you said about Michael?"

Cordelia affectionately squeezed her daughter's leg through the duvet. "Honey, we really need to talk about Michael."

"I'm all ears." She replied, mockingly.

"I know you think that I'm just some crazy, overprotective Mom who doesn't want to see her only baby fly the nest. But you need to understand that it is so much deeper than that."

"Michael is _evil_. He is a demon spawned from the rape of a human woman perpetrated by a possessed spirit. He has been murdering innocent people since he was a child. He is also indirectly responsible for the deaths of countless others, including the warlock John Henry Moore. I believe his plan is to destroy this coven... and then the world."

Primrose sat still in shock. "I-i can't believe-"

"If you don't believe me, ask Behold and Madison; they were the ones that gathered this intel."

Primrose didn't want to believe what her mother was saying, but deep down she knew she was right. She had sensed the darkness in Michael the moment she had met him, and foolishly thought she might able to soften his edges, help him see the light.

"I am such an idiot." She sobbed, collapsing into her mother's arms. Cordelia consoled her with forehead kisses and choruses of _there, there_  and _i_ _t'll be alright_.

Cordelia pulled away to look her daughter in the eyes. "This is why I need you to trust me when I say you cannot see that boy anymore." Using her thumb, Cordelia wiped away Primrose's tears. "Please promise me you won't see him again."

Primrose hesitated. She knew in her heart that what he had done was awful, and she could sense that something even worse was coming. And yet at the same time, she also knew that she still loved him in spite of it. She had never felt so confused, so morally conflicted, so absolutely _tortured_ before in all her life.

"Prim, promise me." Cordelia implored.

"I promise."

-

Soon after that, the coven descended into war as Primrose fell into a deep depression. She wouldn't come out of her room, she refused all food, she kept the curtains drawn to block out all light, and worst of all, she stopped tending to her garden. Even though her mother had warned her not to breach the barrier of the magical protection that surrounded the house, she doubted she would've wanted to see the garden anyway; the roses reminded her too much of Michael.

Everyone in the house was extremely concerned, of course. Cordelia and Misty tried giving her many herbal concoctions in the hopes that it would lift her mood, Queenie tried teaching her card games to distract her, Myrtle even tried soothing her with her theremin. They all tried, and they all failed. There was no end to the sadness. She simply lay in bed all day, withering away like the neglected plants in her garden.

Days turn into weeks, turn into months, turn into nothingness. They say time heals all wounds, but every day she went without seeing Michael, she felt weaker and more alone. Michael had tried to visit her again, many times. She would watch him transmute into the garden from her bedroom window, unable to cross the threshold into her house, looking up at her through the thick glass between them, realizing that she wouldn't ever be coming down. Every time their eyes met, she would place her palm against the glass longingly, in the hope that this small action could convey how much she hadn't wanted to leave him, not really, and that despite all she did love him still.

And this is how she knew Michael couldn't possibly be composed only of darkness, because he had left her and with him, he had taken all the light.

-

It was a day that had started like any other.

She had woken up late, hopelessly stared at the ceiling for a few hours before getting washed and dressed. Emerging from the bathroom she stared at the closed curtains until she could bear the darkness no longer, ripping them open and watching the light flood in through squinted eyes. Her heart sank at the sight of her once burgeoning garden, now shriveled and dead. She felt guilty for neglecting them, but the emotional turmoil had drained her of her powers; she knew that anything she touched would surely die.

As her eyes scanned the brown, crumpled vegetation, her eye was caught by the smallest flash of color in the corner of her eye. Against all odds, one tiny little flower had survived. Gazing at this tiny flower from her window, she felt something stirring in her chest for the first time again after months of feeling numb; it was hope. Small and faint, yes, but it was hope nonetheless.

Suddenly feeling inspired, Primrose ran from her room and down the stairs the yard out back, searching for her tiny flower of hope. She found it, bright and yellow, beckoning towards her out of the masses of death that surrounded it. She kneeled down in the flower bed to pick it, and the strangest thing happened; it resisted. She gave it another tug, and still it would not yield.

 _How strange,_ she thought. _I've certainly never had this problem before_.

With both hands she pulled the stem with all her might until it was finally released from the earth, dirt flying everywhere as she fell back onto the ground. She smiled triumphantly at her prize and brought the flower under her nose to inhale its scent. Instantly it's scent invaded her nostrils, going straight to her head. She coughed and spluttered as it reached her lungs, she had never known a flower to be this potent, it's scent harsher than cheap perfume.

It all happened so fast; she felt her vision blur, and her ears ringing, she could've sworn she heard screaming coming from inside the house. Through her darkened sight, she could make out a van parked in front of the coven and two large men in black suits coming toward her.

"Primrose Goode, you need to come with us." The taller one said. "Now."

"W-who are you?" She asked, desperately clinging on to consciousness. "What's going on?"

"You have been selected for the cooperative." She felt two strong arms pick her up off the floor, carrying her across the garden onto the lawn, toward the black van. "We have a location prepared for you where you'll be safe."

She wanted to fight herself free from the stranger's grip, she wanted to use her powers, she wanted to scream, to call out for her mother, for Zoe, for Myrtle, for her all her sisters.

But she couldn't.

Whatever was in that flower's scent was fully working its way through her system now and it was only a matter of seconds before the darkness would fully claim her and she became lost in the abyss.

-

[author's note; this is kind of unrelated to the fic but i reccently uploaded a michael langdon video to youtube, which i have linked if anyone is interested in watching it :) ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Fk45sCRlcM)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the timeline in this fic deviates slightly from the show's timeline, in this timeline the slaughter of the coven and the apocalypse pretty much happen one after the other, just a heads up xo


	10. chapter nine; revelations (and the whore of babylon.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> flashbacks r over!! we r now back to the apocalypse timeline yaay

_"Not causeless is this journey to the abyss;_  
_Thus it is willed on high, where Michael wrought_  
_Vengeance upon the proud adultery._

_So fell the cruel monster to the earth."_  
_-Inferno, Dante Alighieri._

Primrose had fallen asleep soon after they had made love, and whilst she was deeply lost in the abyss of her own unconsciousness, she felt as though someone was calling out to her, willing her to wake up. The sensation within her head grew stronger and stronger until she was jolted awake, her body involuntarily lurching forward from the bed. A thin layer of sweat was evident on her brow, her breathing shallow and uneven. She cast her eyes around the room, searching desperately for Michael.

Instead, her gaze fell upon the bleeding corpse of Ms. Venable, and it took every ounce of her being to not vomit at the sight. Using her hand, Prim muffled the sound of the scream that forced it's way out of her throat at the sight of her body laying there, lifeless.

She jumped out of bed, pausing only to grab the robe that was hung on the back of Michael's chair, before yanking the door open and hurrying down the hall.

Prim considered two possibilities as she tied the cords of Michael's robe together around her waist; someone had either killed Ms. Venable and was now about to harm Michael, or rather Michael had simply murdered her himself. She couldn't decide which one was worse.

As she rounded the corner of the hallway, she heard a familiar female voice speaking.

"Where is she?" The voice asked.

She heard a man laugh before responding; "Where she belongs. With me."

She entered the room and everything came into view; her heart almost stopped at the sight of her mother.

"Mom!" She exclaimed, drawing everyone's attention to herself in the process.

"Prim!" Cordelia desperately cried out as she started to run towards her daughter, but with a wave of Michael's hand she was stopped in her tracks. Primrose ran down the staircase to embrace her, but Ms. Meade and her strong grip prevented her from going any further.

All the joy at seeing her daughter again now evaporated, her face grew ashen as she took in her daughter's disheveled appearance. "Is it not enough that you have destroyed this world, you have to take my daughter too?"

"My sentiments exactly." Myrtle chimed in. "If you want to wallow in this putrid, subterranean underworld of yours, that's perfectly fine with us, just don't drag our poor dear Primrose down with you."

"What have you done to her?" Cordelia seethed.

"Nothing she did not want." He replied, earnestly.

"Well it ends now." She said sternly. "You will release her immediately."

"Or?" He asked, amusement evident on his face.

Cordelia stared him down fiercely. "Or I will."

Michael shrugged his shoulders and clasped his hands together behind his back. "I'm afraid that won't be possible." He calmly replied.

Madison scoffed as she crossed her arms against her chest. "The world's been blown to shit, anything's possible."

Michael smiled at the young witch's naivety. He turned his attention to Prim, extending his hand out to her. For reasons she couldn't quite comprehend, she found herself incapable of resisting. She placed her hand in his and descended the last few steps to stand at his side.

"It won't be possible for her to leave me, because we are now bound to one another."

Cordelia visibly recoiled at his bombshell statement.

"Oh, you vulgarian! You brute!" Mytle raged.

"I'm sorry but I'm lost. What does he mean by bound?" Madison asked.

"It means their souls have been chained together by black magic." Cordelia fumed. "It is an irreversible spell of the darkest magic, an act not of love but diabolism, and it is outlawed in the magical proclamations of every civilized coven on the planet!"

Upon hearing her mother's words, Prim knew she should've felt shocked, betrayed even; and yet she didn't.

"Pardon my pedanticism," He smiled politely, his eyes sparkling, taking far too much pleasure in Cordelia's distress. "I think you'll find all laws, magical or otherwise, were made void by the nuclear bombs."

"So, they're like married?" Madison scratched the top of her platinum blonde head. "Why's that so evil?"

"Because it is typically non-consensual, and not only that, it is simply immoral to tie two life forces together, it robs a person of their independence and free will." Cordelia explained.

Madison shifted uncomfortably. "What happens if she leaves him?"

"They both die." Myrtle answered her question, gravely.

"It was an inevitable act," Michael said, rolling his eyes. "She is made from my rib; she cannot live without me, nor can I live without her."

"From your rib, my ass." Cordelia fumed. "I did _not_ die pushing my baby out for you to just... defile her."

"Agree to disagree, shall we? Although one thing I'm afraid we _will_  have to agree on is the redundancy of your little time turner witch." He laughed.

Cordelia stood in front of the newly resurrected Mallory defensively, a look of worry etched across her face.

"Oh, come on. I've made hell on earth and proclaimed myself its king, you think I can't smell a little insurrection a mile away?"

"Our bond is eternal and transcends all universes and timelines." He continued. "Should you travel to my past and murder me, you will be murdering your only daughter in the process."

"That's a sacrifice we're going to have to make." Madison said, firmly. She stepped forward ready to attack but Cordelia stopped her.

"No." The supreme witch shook her head. "No way in hell."

"Cordelia, you heard him. They're bound together for life. You even said yourself, it's irreversible dark magic."

"I'm the fucking supreme, nothing's irreversible." Cordelia stubbornly replied.

"I'm sorry." Prim croaked, her voice quiet and meek. She stood in place on the stairs, eyes firmly glued to her feet.

"Listen to me. You have nothing to be sorry for, it's Michael who has done this." Cordelia said.

Primrose finally looked up to meet her mother's eyes as she sighed deeply, and said; "Mother, I did not eat the fruit unwillingly."

"W-what?" Cordelia asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You heard her!" Madison exclaimed. "She's made her bed, and I say we let her lie in it."

"You'll be careful to watch your tone, that's my daughter you're suggesting we throw to the slaughter." Cordelia warned the blonde haired witch.

Madison scoffed. "She's less Mommy's-little-angel, more whore of Babylon."

Unexpectedly, Madison was thrown across the room, only narrowing missing the center fireplace. Everyone turned to look at Michael, assuming it was his work, jumping to the defense of his lover, but they were met with a nonchalant shrug. It was then that everyone realized it had been Primrose who had attacked her, using her telekinesis to defend her own honor.

Cordelia compelled her daughter to stand before her, and took her head within her hands.

"Listen to me, Prim. Your head has become his garden where only poison grows!"

"I'm not some silly little girl," she refuted. "I think a part of me, unfamiliar to even myself but still a part of me nonetheless, knew the fruit was enchanted with dark magic. I think I wanted it, and... I think I liked it."

Cordelia stood her ground, her eyes ablaze with fury at what had become of her only child.

"Well I don't. You'd both do well to remember that you did not come from his rib, but from my womb."

"You are still my child, and for as long as I live, I will never accept whatever it is you think you have with him."

Michael chuckled darkly.

"Then live no more."


	11. chapter ten; from death springs life eternal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys!! so the reason for the delay of this chapter is bc we are nearing the end of this fic and i couldn't decide which ending to go with!! this chapter and the tiny one after it constitutes the original ending i wrote, and tomorrow i am uploading the alternative ending chapter which i didnt have the guts to make the official ending bc its kind of dark and a bit twisted... but also too weird to just throwaway! so that is the plan friends, tomorrow is the final chapter! x

_"If you love me, you will let them go."_

Michael almost jumped at the sound of her soft voice in his head. A consequence of their bond was the ability to communicate with the other without actually needing to speak. He looked over to where she stood, and they shared a knowing look.

Michael sighed deeply. "Out of the goodness of my heart, and devotion to my other half, I offer you this; leave now and promise to never return, and in exchange for your absence, I will spare your useless lives."

All eyes then fell on Cordelia as she considered Michael's offer.

"Cordelia, don't you dare." Madison seethed. "We've come this far, who knows when we'll get another shot at this?"

Myrtle bowed her head. "I'm afraid Madison has a point. We don't know when, or if we will ever have an opportunity like this again."

Cordelia hesitated. The tension in the room was palpable as Michael awaited her response.

"You know damn well if she was any other witch, you'd burn her at the fucking stake. You're her mother, but you're also our supreme." Madison said, clenching her fists.

"That's right, I'm your supreme. And I'm her mother. Therefore it is my decision."

Cordelia exhaled, shakily. She stepped forward and held her daughter's hand in hers, praying to god that the decision she had made was the right one for not only her daughter, but for the fate of the earth.

"I will come back for you, Prim." Cordelia promised, her voice wavering with emotion. "I will figure out how to break this bond, and then I will come back for you."

-

Primrose leaned against the wall, her hands clasped behind her back, sighing deeply as she stared off into space. Michael was stood by her bed, folding her garments with the utmost care, before placing them one atop the other in his old, wooden trunk.

"Did you use me as a pawn, knowing my mother would never sacrifice me, even if it meant destroying you?"

"No." He earnestly replied, not looking up from his work.

"How do I know you're not lying to me?" She questioned him.

He sighed as he brought the lid of the trunk down, locking it shut. "Because if you truly were my pawn, I wouldn't need to."

"You do know that my mother did not agree to your promise, don't you? She will continue to attempt to retrieve me."

With a wave of his hand, the wooden box glided gracefully across the room, and landed at the threshold of the door.

"Of course. But I've long since learned that a person's word usually amounts to absolutely nothing, so it's irrelevant to us either way."

He was smiling softly as he sauntered to where she stood on the opposite side of the room. He held out his hand for her to hold, and she hesitantly complied.

"I know that this is only a temporary truce. Order has failed, chaos is the victor. Two opposing forces cannot coexist peacefully, not anymore. As much as I know it pains you to hear it, your mother is fading. She will spend her final days searching for a way to reverse my spell, and her search will be in vain. One day soon, Mallory will ascend, and on that day, when your mother is no longer there to stop her, she will attempt tempus infinitum. And we will be there to stop her."

He cradled her cheek within his palm, knowing how much she liked it when he did that.

"But it's of little importance right now. In the meantime, we will be long gone, safely shrouded within the dark magic that encases the sanctuary, and then with Mallory's last breath, we will be free to do what we were put here to do."

"Which is what?"

She studied his features intently, searching for a crack in his calm facade, waiting for the mask to slip even for just one moment, so that she might try and deduce what it was he was thinking.

He dismissed her questioning with his soft caress, and as much as she usually enjoyed his touch, on this particular occasion, it felt patronizing.

"Michael, enough." She batted his hand away, creating a distance between them. "What am I? I beg you to burden me with purpose. Return to me my agency which has so many times been stolen."

He hesitated before taking her hand in his and leading her to sit down next to him on her bed.

"Forget any notion of light and dark. Clear your mind of right and wrong. Everything that has happened has been for a reason. It's true, I am the anti-christ and I have destroyed this world, but let's not forget that God once did the same. With his hand, the world ended with a flood, and by mine it ended in flames and that is the only difference. If God did not want this, he would've stopped by me now, and furthermore he certainly would never have sent me you."

"God sent me?" She repeated his words, incredulously. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Sweetheart, remember what I told you? The light and the dark, the push and the pull, the yin and the yang. In the old world, the balance had been thrown off. In our world, it will be right once more."

She gave out a short laugh. "You make it sound so noble, to slaughter seven billion people."

"Did the world not anger you?" He asked, his jaw clenching angrily. "Did the stench of sin not make you want to retch? The war, the famine, the greed? The ever potent perfume of death?"

"I forgave the world because it had you." She said, softly.

The expression on his face softened momentarily, before he composed himself once more. "We have destinies to discover and fulfill."

She turned to look upon him with a desperate look in her eyes. "To love one another, is that not employment enough?"

He smiled at her, softly. There was once a time when he was sure he'd never know love, and now here she was, ready to make her love for him her sole occupation in life. She was simply too good for him.

"I do love you, but there is still labor to be done. Our allotted task is far greater than ourselves."

She rested her head on his shoulder, he could feel a damp patch forming on his shirt from her falling tears. She collapsed into his embrace, her morals raging inside her like the formidable sea. He did not like to see her cry and he wished he could kiss the pain away.

"Listen to me, angel." He said, wiping her tears away. "You once told me that you liked to look at something barren and think of what could be done with it. Well now, the world is the most barren thing of all."

"Sometimes I think it is your heart." Primrose said, sulkily.

"Now you know that's not true." He chided. "I'm wiping the slate clean. Everything I've done is because I want a new world, a better world for the people I love, for my family. Ms. Meade, you, and..." he trailed off as he lay his palm flat against her stomach.

Michael felt her freeze in his arms.

"You don't mean...?"

He nodded slowly, a small smile blossoming across his features. "From death springs life eternal."

Primrose shook her head with disbelief. "Michael, that's not possible. We only just-"

"It is possible for me to sense her because she is ten times more powerful than you and I combined." He said, watching her expression carefully, trying to gauge how she felt about the news.

There was a heavy silence as she tried to process his words.

"S-she? W-we're gonna have a baby girl?" She was crying again, but this time the tears were ones of joy.

Michael threaded his fingers through her hair, bringing her closer to him to bestow a kiss upon her forehead. "Our daughter will do great things."

Her hands and his, together, rubbing the curve of her stomach which would soon swell with the burgeoning life inside.

"I planted the seed of destruction, and from your womb the world will grow."


	12. postlude of nocturne; the world is your garden.

_"Time for us to depart, angel."_

**_A carriage drawn by spectral steeds emerges from the smog._ **

**_Two beings travel the ravaged lands of the earth, weighted with glorious purpose._ **

**_A hand emerges from the darkened shadows of the coach to caress the swollen belly of his beloved._ **

**_She looks out of the window at the barren landscape that lies before her._ **

_"The world is your garden."_

The End?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alternative ending coming tomorrow folks!


	13. alternative ending; born back together.

"Then live no more."

 

Madison struck first, catching Primrose offguard by using her magic to throw her back against the wall. She felt the full force of it against her ribcage, knowing the knock would surely bruise, but she also knew it was not fatal; Madison was clearly following orders from her mother to take out of the fight and keep her alive.

 

Ms. Meade opened fire on Cordelia but it took no more than a wave of her mother's hand to annihaliate the machine. She covered her head with her hands to try and shield her ears from the noise of the blast, the force of it knocking Michael over the bannister of the staircase.

 

Ears ringing and head spinning, she sat up against the wall with a wince. Her mother and aunt were at her side now, Mallory following not far behind, pulling her onto her feet and briskly leading her down the corridor into a secluded room. Her legs were weak, her eyes full of tears; her very soul was in pieces - she had not wanted it to come to this.

 

Just as the door slammed shut, Primrose could hear the distant yet jarring sound of rapid gunfire, her frame collapsing in on itself and onto the floor with grief. There was no time for anybody to console her, as the other witches prepared the large basin of water.

 

She was at a crossroads and she knew it. The sound of bullets had ceased, and she could feel Michael's life force rising once more. Madison had seconds left to live, at most.

 

Then it would be Coco.

 

And then Myrtle.

 

And then Mallory.

 

He was working his way through her old coven and he would not stop until he reached her mother.

 

Her beautiful mother, who was now crouched beside the bathtub, holding Mallory's hand and desperately chanting an incantation that did not seem to be working.

 

"I'm sorry, Cordelia." Mallory weakly mumbled. "I'm not strong enough."

 

Something passed over her mother's face, something like calm acceptance. She turned to look upon her daughter, her miracle child, and smiled. "I love you."

 

Primrose did not like the tone of resolution in her voice, and wanted to get up to stop her from whatever it was she was planning to do, but felt her aunt's embrace restricting her.

 

"Mom, what are you doing?"

 

She watched her mother exit the room, head held high.

 

"Mom, come back!"

 

She fought and fought and eventually wrestled herself free from Myrtle's grip, dashing into the hallway in desperate search of her mother, the older witch immediately chasing after her.

 

She turned a corner and almost bumped straight into Michael, who was staring down her mother at the other end of the corridor.

 

There she stood, bloody dagger in hand, smiling at her warmly. She looked calm, far too calm as she raised the knife to her chest.

 

"If you go through with this, she will die." Michael warned her.

 

"I have no other choice. Between the choice of leaving her in the hands of a monster, and the smallest of chances to free her, I will free her everytime. She is not your pet. You cannot cage her."

 

Cordelia turned her attention to her daughter. "I'm doing this for you, Prim."

 

"Cordelia!" Myrtle cried out.

 

Primrose let out a bloody scream as Cordelia sunk the blade into her heart. Michael merely stood there, mouth agape with shock at the events that were unfolding.

 

Time was moving in slow motion as she watched the life fade from her mother's eyes, her body plummeting backwards onto the lower level. Michael ran down the stairs to revive the old supreme in hopes of thwarting the acension of Mallory, but Primrose knew that it was too late; she could feel time starting to warp and bend already.

 

Pushing past Myrtle, she returned the room where a much stronger Mallory was completing her incantation.

 

The water was already beginning to boil, she was too late to stop the spell.

 

"I have lost too much today." Primrose defiantly declared, stepping into the tub and grabbing Mallory by the collar. "You won't take him from me too."

 

Mallory looked surprised as Prim chanted the final verse of the spell along with her, dragging them both underwater.

 

-

 

Primrose awoke with a gasp.

 

She was stretched out on a small patch of grass beside the sidewalk. She didn't know where she was, but it was bright, the sunshine burned her eyes after over a year underground. Standing up she noticed she was several years younger; a little girl, infact. A woman in the body of a child.

 

Her head shot up at the sound of a door being slammed shut. She looked over at the house on the opposite side of the street.

 

There was a house with a beautiful blonde boy on the porch, crying.

 

Upon further inspection she realised that that boy was none other than Michael Langdon, her soulmate and lover, looking much younger than he did when she had first met him. Looking at his tear-streaked face, she also realised she had never seen him look so vulnerable before. He looked lost and lonely.

 

He started to walk away from the house, and watching his bare feet step out onto the road she knew why she had been sent to this time specifically, and what she had to do.

 

She felt the car coming before she saw it.

 

Magic was useless in her younger body; at this age her powers were barely beginning to show.

 

A late bloomer, her mother had called her.

 

And so there was only one thing for it.

 

Their eyes met briefly before she knocked him backwards with all her might onto the concrete. Mallory had tried to swerve the car at the last minute to avoid the strange little girl who had come out of nowhere and thwarted her murder attempt, but the side of the car still caught her, and knocked her delicate frame onto the ground.

 

In trying to avoid the little girl, Mallory had lost control of the range rover and crashed head on into a fire hydrant, the force of the crash sending her through the windshield.

 

The life left her body immediately upon impact.

 

The water that was now flowing freely from the fire hydrant mingled with the blood and glass that littered the street.

 

The younger Michael ran out into the road to cradle the tiny body of this young girl, who he had never even met, and yet she had given her life for him without a second thought.

 

"Grandma!" He shouted desparetly over his shoulder. "Someone help!"

 

Using what little energy she had left, she lifted her blood soaked palm and rested it against his cheek.

 

"Why did you do that?" He asked, quietly, gently rocking her back and forth in his arms. "Why would someone do that for me?"

 

"When you love someone, you give them everything." She spoke feebly, her breathing was becoming increasingly sporadic and shallow; Michael could hear the air echoing within her chest.

 

"When there's nothing left to give, you them love."

 

Michael felt his chest tighten; no one had ever loved him before.

 

"Michael, what have you done now?"

 

He turned around to face Constance, who held her hand to her mouth in horror at the sight of the young girl's mangled body.

 

"I-it wasn't me, Grandma. That car hit her." He said, pointing to the wreckage across the street.

 

"W-we can save her, y-you have to help me take her next door."

 

Constance looked at him sympathetically; it was a look he had not seen on her face in a long time. She sadly shook her head 'no' and gestured for him to look at the blood drenched body in his arms.

 

He looked into her blank eyes and the crushing realisation that she was gone hit him like a ton of bricks.

 

Sobbing into her hair, her blood staining his yellow shirt, he would not let go of her body until the authorities arrived and he had no other choice but to do so.

 

All it takes to turn something tragic into something beautiful is the right intention. What motivation can make death noble? To die for a cause, maybe to die for the world. Prim had always thought that to die for someone you love, why that would be the noblest thing of all.

 

-

 

Michael Langdon.

 

Antichrist and now victor of the earth.

 

And yet this victory felt bittersweet.

 

Michael was always going to win.

 

Because was Prim was always going to lose.

 

With Cordelia gone, Michael only had Myrtle and Mallory left to deal with. He had taken out Myrtle soon after he had realised the situation with Cordelia was hopeless.

 

Bursting into the room where Mallory and his dear Primrose's bodies floated lifelessly in the water of the tub, he knew the battle was over.

 

Everyone was dead.

 

He had won.

 

But at what price?

 

He couldn't revive her, he knew that. In travelling back in time to his past and preventing an attempt on his life, Primrose had not saved their timeline, but splintered it. Were he to attempt tempus infinitum himself, he would not find her there. She was in another universe now. Dead.

 

Her soul had departed somewhere he could not reach.

 

He knew this, but what he did not know was how he was still standing. Surely if Primrose's soul was gone, shouldn't his follow suit?

 

And then he understood everything, and his attention turned to the drawing room.

 

-

 

"What's happening? Where am I?"

 

Emily shot up from where she had been lying against the cold floor; the look in Langdon's eyes, however, was much colder.

 

Casually, he bent down to where her dead boyfriend was strewn across the ground and somehow revived him.

 

"What's going on?" Timothy exclaimed as his lover peppered his face with kisses of relief.

 

Michael looked down upon the couple, derisively. "It appears I still have some use for you yet."

 

"What does that mean?" Emily asked.

 

"It means congratulations are in order," he smiled, devilishly. "You have been accepted into the sanctuary."

 

-

 

_Nine months later..._

 

Michael Langdon paced the hall of the medical wing, his red gloved hands clasped firmly behind his back. The new Meade robot he'd had constructed stood at the end of hall, awaiting orders.

 

He could hear the screams from down the corridor, followed by the loud cry of a wailing child.

 

Turning sharply on the spot, the creak of his black leather shoes echoed around the empty hall as each footstep brought him closer to the delivery room.

 

With a wave of his hand, the door opened.

 

"Ah, Mr. Langdon!" Timothy stood by his wife's bedside, beaming. "Would you like to meet the little one? After all, without all your help, our little girl wouldn't be here."

 

A long silence passed, Michael's expression was unreadable as he simply stood in the doorway watching Emily cradle the new baby. The infant was squirming and crying in her mother's arms.

 

"Mr. Langdon?" Emily asked, unnerved by his lack of a response.

 

Michael turned his attention to Timothy, and let out a short, sardonic laugh.

 

"Did you know," Michael began as he slowly stalked over to where Timothy stood on the other side of the room. "In physics, the law of conservation of energy states that the total energy of an isolated system cannot change - it is said to be conserved over time."

 

Timothy stared at the man before him in confusion. "Sorry, sir, but I'm not quite sure what you mean."

 

Michael smiled at him while his blood red hand suddenly gripped his throat, squeezing tightly. 

 

"It means," Michael said, his hand now crushing Timothy's windpipe. "Energy can neither be created nor destroyed."

 

Emily screamed as Michael released Timothy's now lifeless body, his form collapsing to floor with a dull thud.

 

Turning around to face her, Michael used his power of concillium to compel a terrified Emily to hand her daughter over to him.

 

"But it can change form."

 

With the babe safely tucked away in the crook of his arm, he used his free hand to clench his fist, casting Emily's body and Timothy's soul away into hell in a storm of flames.

 

As he exited the delivery room, he noticed the baby had ceased it's crying.

 

With a wag of his finger, he beckoned forth Ms. Meade 2.0.

 

"Yes, sir?"

 

"Alert the household of Timothy and Emily's termination, and inform the staff that preparations will need to be made in regards to living arrangements for my new ward."

 

"Very good, sir. And the ward's name?"

 

Michael looked down at the gurgling child in his arms and smiled.

 

"Primrose Langdon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I TOLD YALL THE ALTERNATIVE ENDING WAS TWISTED ☕️ anyways this is the final part! I’m sad to be finishing this story but I’ve had so much fun writing it, and i rlly hope ppl have enjoyed reading it as well xx


	14. UPDATE

hey guys :-) so while this story is officially finished, I've had a few people on wattpad and also on here express interest in a continuation of the alternative ending (ppl actually ended up digging that ending more than the original one whoops 💀) and i was just wondering if that rlly was something ppl would be interested in reading, and if so, what would ppl want to see happen? i do have some rough ideas for a oneshot, or do ppl want a whole ass book sequel? pls let me know if u think i should continue w the second ending (and also how), or if u think i should just leave it alone lmao.

peace xo ✌️


	15. update two

hey guys!! so last update i asked if anyone would be interested in a sequel to this story, and i got a really good response so that's officially underway! you can read the first preview of it [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16882599/chapters/39650232) !!

(also im aware theres been a long gap in between me asking if people wanted a sequel and me actually posting it but i got really really busy and then i got really really sick so i haven't had much time to write but im back now so yay)


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